Just another war
by Drinker of solids
Summary: In the year 2177, one hundred years after the fractioning of the United Earth Nations, when the City State of Katha set's it's eyes on it's neighbor nation of Falnierv, a bloody war larger than any before it will come to bear. It is a fic I wrote up about what would happen if my nation and my friend's nation on NationStates went to war with each other.)
1. Extraction

Hey all, It's just another dude with a story, this chapter is a prequel to what actually happens in the main story so please bear with me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Nationstates… (ummm… is that all I need to say? I'm kinda new to this)

Falnierv and Katha were nations that I and a friend of mine created on Nationstates, which we don't own. My nation is currently closed down but if you search up Katha on Nationstates you will find his nation and for the most part this fic and his nation match up, but I have a few set stats that he and I agreed on for this fic. Rated M for Intense Violence and (possible) sexual themes later.

February, 23, 2152: carnival; 19:02

I gazed over the smoky city of carnival, Hab-skyscrapers wrecked by artillery shells, a deep green haze hung over the multitude of districts, mounds of corpses, melted by the chemical agent, seeping through the burnt rubble that has seen the detonation of a thousand bombs, and served as cover for both insurgent and solider alike. My head spun, and suddenly; I remember to breath. Even through my thick gas mask protected me from the noxious green hue that blanketed what seemed to be the entirety of the world, I still smelled the burnt flesh, raw blood, the chalky scent of bricks and concrete reduced to dust, blanketing the sky grey, suffocating all who lay beneath it in its grey embrace.

We drove forward, the occasional burst of gunfire reminding my squad and I of our purpose, but I was immersed in my own thought, I remembered the colonel ordering us to retreat. I remembered the bullets whizzing by as we jumped into the helicopter, the flash of the nuke going off etched forever into my eyes as we sailed away, our transport knocked about like a gnat as the war ended. I had thought this would be the last time that I would ever see this city; and the blood red A of anarchy painted everywhere. I had no qualms killing those rebels and anarchists that threatened society, or so I had told my superiors and myself in retrospect. But there was something that ached within me every time I shot my rifle, every time I pulled the pin of a grenade, every time I threw a flare; signaling a black jet, swooping from above like the a sickle of death, dropping its munitions, blowing bodies into the sky, cooking hundreds in their own homes. I stepped out of our vehicle, dusting off my Lt's badge, covered in the dust of a dead city. I trudged with purpose; rifle held in front of me, ready to release a flurry of steel to any bastard insurgent, adrenaline flowed through my vein once more as we cleared the block with unflinching discipline. Propped on a corner, lay a girl, unmoving next to a van that had its paint long stripped by the noxious gas of the chemical bombing. We kept moving forward, Ignoring her whimpers every time she breathed in, inhaling the stagnate air, still lingering with the noxious gas; no doubt dissolving her lungs slowly, burning her skin with each breath, eyes shut desperately; either blinded by the chemical attack or desperately trying to preserve her vision, forcing her delicate eyelids shut, as she wept, as she wept for my sins.

He took another step, now only a few feet away from her slumped figure, stirring up her delirious mind, "Ah," she whimpered, the air burning her throat and mouth as she opened them to speak, exposing the flesh to the toxic chemical gas "Ah, who, as you?" she asked, words slurred as she tried to move. Ereval drew his pistol, drawing back the slide of the gun, chambering a bullet. She whimpered again as he pressed his pistol up against her forehead, "Sorry, and may you find peace," he whispered to her, just softly enough so that that his speaker wouldn't register. He took a deep breath, racked with emotion as he began his short prayer, this wasn't his first time, but once again fate had duped him.

"Lt. Ereval, this is Valdiev. Do not kill the girl, your new orders are to retrieve the girl; she may have some information." The gruff accented voice of the Major ordered unceremoniously. "Yes sir," he stated flatly. His squad was already moving; their orders displayed on their helmet comm links. The darkly dressed men cleared corners, making their way back to their transport as Ereval slid his arms underneath the girl's dark dress, bleached white by the chemical agents. He gripped the girl firmly, wrapping his thick gloved hands around her waist and torso as he plucked her wiry body up from the concrete ground. As he entered the vehicle he propped her on his lap, supporting her limp torso with one, and holding his spare gas mask over her small face, the huge dark mask seeming ridiculous on her. He might even have laughed if she were not clenching his hand until her delicate wiry fingers turned white, her frantic heaving as she desperately gulped the purified air in the mask a testament to her suffering. As they came closer and closer to camp, and further and further away from the battlefield, she seemed to relax; his gruff, stiff embrace devolved until he had pressed her fragile frame up against his chest, gently stroking her dark frayed hair as she breathed softly; having fallen asleep on his lap.

March, 06, 2152: carnival; 9:56

I sat in the bright room, looking down at her childlike face, weary and bruised, but still maintaining a faint glow as the bright sun illuminated her face, a rare break in the dusty polluted sky. Being assigned to babysit a child in a coma wasn't so bad I decided, no, it wasn't bad at all. She seemed like a little angel, roused from the heavens from above.

Then, she awoke, her large dark amber eyes focused on me, wide with apprehension, and perhaps fear, or was it hope? "My name is Ereval, I found you in the city, and brought you back," I began softly, trying not to scare the little girl who lay in front of me. "What is your name?" I asked.

"Natasha," she said raspily, her high pitched voice betraying her age and discomfort.

"Well Natasha, you'll be safe here, this is the forward post of the second grand army of Falnierv," I stated gently, almost whispering as I leaned in, meeting her gaze as I grinned at her.

"Are you the good guys?" She asked again, "Are you my family?" she asked once again, I could see her concentrating, thinking about what could have possibly happened.

"No, I'm not your family, but I can be your friend. Would you like that Natasha?" I offered as I extended a hand to her, my skin was calloused by the years of combat.

"Are you a good guy? Are you a solider, are you a bad guy!?" she asked again, not taking my hand as panic seemed to overtake her, I saw her tremble as I sat there, arm extended, my smile erased by a suddenly dark expression.

We silently sat there, I was trying to think of what to say, she was a rebel. I was shocked. How could anybody so beautiful, so seemingly innocent be manifest to rebellion and treason. I studied her once again, her shoulders pressed against the wall as she glared at me, her eyes; soft and warm a moment ago now searing at me with intensity that would rival that of lasrifle fire. "Yes, I am a solider," I answered as she flinched at the word, "I am a solider, but I am not a bad person, and I'm not going to hurt you," I stated flatly, not knowing how to respond anymore.

"Why do you want to kill us then?" she asked again, eyes wide, adorably so, unfitting of the situation.

"I don't," I stated honestly "I don't," I repeated, to myself as well as to her.

"What's the gun for then? You kill my momma! Why did you take me here! Who are you? Why are you pretending to be nice, you liar!" She screamed; tearing her hair; eyes now focused on some unknown point in space.

I felt a pang of guilt, I was responsible for this wasn't I. After all I would not put it past myself to have inadvertently scarred this little girl. I looked at her again, I wanted to apologize for what I did to her, maybe it wasn't me, maybe it was a bomb, or perhaps one of my subordinates, or any of the hundreds of thousands of the soldiers in the army that robbed her of her world, but if not I then who was to apologize to her, who else would be there for her, who would love her, raise her who else would stand up for her? I reached for her still trembling body as she shied away from my touch. I knew what I had to do; but I stopped, unsure what to do; how to comfort her, what words to say to a girl for who's suffering was my doing. I didn't know, all I knew was that I was sorry. I hugged her again, just as I did when she was in my arms in the way back. Her sobbing and struggling slowly ceased, and I noticed the warm salty drops roll down my cheeks. I looked down; she looked up at me as we locked eyes again.

"I'm sorry," I said again, and again, and again. "I…" she paused, and the world seemed to stop, every moment hanging on her cracked lips.

"I… forgive you," she said with uncertainty, perhaps she understood the weight of those words, perhaps not, but I didn't put it past her intelligent eyes to understand. It was as if I were whole again, every fragment of me lost in all of my wrongs, all of my inhuman acts, suddenly returned to me by that phrase. And at that moment I understood something else, now; I loved her. Perhaps I always have, perhaps all of the love I had thrown away through my service and death-dealing had manifested within her, perhaps I loved her forgiveness, or did I suddenly just recognize my need, my want for love, for my humanity. Maybe it was the same for her as well, but for now, I was content I supposed, as I stroked her dark hair reassuringly once again.

April, 16, 2152: carnival; 12:47

We flew across the ground on the rail system, through the vast plains of Falnierv at just below the speed of sound. I swiveled my head around, to see Natasha; face planted firmly against the large window plane of the rail cart, gazing at the green fields, some of the few last acres of forest and grassland left in the ever expanding Falniervian nation with the enthusiasm and passion that only a child could exhume. I couldn't help but grin at her still small frame poised against the frame of the window in such a childlike manner. The luxury suite was well worth the month's pay. She looked over at me, her ecstatic eyes a moment ago, now rimmed with tears.

"What's wrong Natasha?" I asked with concern, scooching closer to her to better comfort her.

"Will we see this again?" she asked, her lips quivering with some sudden grief.

"What do you mean Natasha?" I asked, intrigued on the source of her grief, so that I could comfort her, to assure to her that everything will be alright, and make it so.

"The sign said sixty one days until construction for hydroponics plants begins, what does that mean?" she asked with worry, looking back between myself and the plains, now dotted with the occasional tree with a concerned look.

I understood her worry, I had seen that sign during transit hundreds of times, but never before had I truly cared. "It means, Natasha, that in sixty one days, people are going to come and build a hydroponics plants here, do you know what those are?" I asked, not wanting to patronize her if she did. She shook her head: no.

"That's where food comes from; the scientists put seeds and; little plants into the houses there they plant them, and then they grow bigger and bigger until we eat them, just like the rice we had last week, and the pears we ate for snack yesterday," I explained as best I could, racking my brain for the scarce knowledge I had concerning agriculture, all I could think of after that was of buying Natasha a starfruit once we got to HQ, no doubt she would find the shape of the first sized fruit intriguing.

"So are they gonna get rid of the grass and trees?" she asked, the worry evident in her face, the pleasure of seeing the plains whizz by, evaporating with each passing moment.

"Natasha," I said, placing my hand on her other shoulder as I brought her closer to me, "Yeah, in sixty one days this plain will be gone. But this isn't the last one alright? I can show you other places, we can move on, don't worry," I urged her softly. It seemed to do little to comfort her though. I had an idea, I pulled my recorder out from my backpack, I'd never used it before now, I had no reason to; I supposed to myself as I pressed the button on the seemingly normal pair of glasses, a green sign displaying 'recording' appeared as I put them on.

"Natasha, look here and smile," I asked her positioning myself so that I could see her entire face against the backdrop of the verdant green plains, mixed with hues of orange tufts and wiry trees. I snapped a picture, and then some more, not wanting to risk waste this opportunity.

"What did you do?" she asked, her somber mood returning as she slumped over defeated, her white blouse covering her back, baring every detail to the empty serenity of the outside world.

"I took a picture," I said simply, holding the glasses on front of her; and swiping back to the frame of her; smiling sadly, the sun glinting off of her skin as the beautiful background flew by; it looked absolutely stunning. "Now we can always see these plains again, even if they do go away, we will always know you were here, and so when you and me start to ever forget this place, we can always look at this picture and remember, so that this place will never truly disappear," I said, a slight smile tugging at my lips as I slowly placed the glasses on her face; her widened as I fixed her hair and adjusted the lenses. "Here Natasha, I don't really have much of a use for these, and this would probably be better used if they were yours," I said, stepping away to see how they looked on her.

She flung herself onto me; I could hear her squealing "thankyouthankyouthankyou" despite having buried her face into my chest. I enjoyed the moment while it lasted, then, un-planting her face from my chest, I told her to go have fun. We spent the rest of the day taking pictures, and touring the various areas in the large city before I checked into my barracks with Natasha, and as I tucked her into bed and wished her good night I realized that today had been the most joyous day of my life, and as I slid under the covers of my bed besides hers, I understood that type of sadness that she felt onboard the train. Perhaps she had felt the same way as I had when I tucked her into bed as well.

April, 17, 2152: carnival; 9:56

I watched Natasha exit the interrogation room, apparently unfazed by the experience that usually left grown men and women gibbering messes. "Are you ok Natasha, what did they do in there?" I asked with concern as I stood up, taking Natasha's small hand as we walked to the command center "He asked me stuff" she replied with a joyful grin.

"Hello, Major Valdiev sir!" I saluted as I walked into my superior's office, Natasha, trying her best to imitate me as I brought my clenched fist to my chest.

"Da, hello Lieutenant, your assignment is now over, it was concluded that she holds no worthwhile information, you have done well, and are now assigned to Krukov pass," He stated.

"What about Natasha sir?" I inquired, looking down at Natasha, clearly following the conversation with worried intensity.

"Dunno, re-education or liquidation, standard procedure really, you know; why don't you take her to the liquidation room at the service center actually," the major answered casually to my anguish.

I stood there, thinking of what would become of my month's companion; her every memory, and even her personality gone, deleted by precise shocks to the neurons of the brain; or possibly led into a gas chamber, frozen, clutching her delicate throat as toxic gasses tore her nervous system asunder, leaving her a cold unresponsive corpse, ready to be repackaged as fertilizer. No I would not accept this. I stroked her long dark hair, head now pressed against my chest; at this development.

"Are there any other options, can she stay with me?" I asked with urgency trying to maintain a professional expression, holding her now trembling figure against myself even more firmly; to affirm that she was still with me, to let her know this would not happen.

"No, personally I don't see how you can get so worked up about some damn orphan anyways, seriously Ereval, I give you a babysitting assignment for a month and you go ahead and make her your very own child. Let me tell you this; boy I did not attain this rank by being a empathizer to rebels," he stated flatly, "Believe me we all want to be heroes, but expending state capital is a crime, especially in these pressing times of rebellions, acid rains eating at our land, droughts, mass starvation; you should understand that."

I nodded, not looking at him as I picked Natasha up, carrying her body, and caressing her as I walked out of his office. We were silent as I walked into the service center, the other men and women waiting at their seats, as a group of injured and dirtied men entered the liquidation chamber, led by a man I recognized as an old friend of mine; he waved. I looked away and made my way to the counter of the table with the large glowing word; 'ADOPTION' hanging over it. I looked into her intelligent amber eyes once again, and asked, "Natasha, do you want a daddy?" I whispered to her. "Uh huh," she nodded; a smile beginning to form on her delicate lips. "Then it's settled," I said, grinning at the prospect as I walked up to the counter, the major's talk fading away with every step we took towards the white marble counter.


	2. Meeting the Platoon

Disclaimer: I do not own Nationstates… there… happy?

Heya all, I got to reviewing and editing my second chapter, and I'm sorry, still no action just setting up for the crescendo of battle *puts hardhat back on* Well, see you all on the bottom of the page!

April, 17, 2177 06:00

A long and loud beep had permeated every crevice of the mountainside base, and Natasha Katusha, a twenty five year old sergeant shot out of her bunk. Her dark hair glistened in the artificial light 350 meters below ground. Her muscular toned body, the result of a training regimen than no other solider in the army could match. Her face has hard, yet feminine, the dark circles under her Light amber eyes and the light scar on her throat a testament to both her line of work, and her line of beauty. She donned her standard form fitting suit, her bra, and her greatcoat, dark green, ashy as it had been salvaged from a fire. She jogged with urgency to the command room, her toned legs effortlessly propelling her with swiftness one would not think possible of a human being.

There was an air of unease as everybody entered the dark boxy room, illuminated only by a dozen or so lights. Assembled here were the most experienced solders of the 3rd battalion, everybody, and herself included; had fought in at least a handful of engagements during an uprising in Jubeli. The 500 or so NCOs snapped to attention as the 3rd battalion's commanding officer; 'old man' Ereval; the charismatic easygoing colonel in his fifties addressed his soldiers.

"Men and women, but first and foremost soldiers of the nation of Falnierv; today we are confronted a threat like that we have never before experienced. Our oppressive warmongering neighbor, the nation of Katha has begun marching their soldiers to our borders. I will be blunt with you, there is no point in deception; as you all know, being veterans of conflict that this will be a bloody affair. Each of you will either be assigned a platoon of 10 to 5 soldiers, or be enlisted to serve in elite platoon of veterans to conduct important operations. But! That is not to say that your platoon is worthless. I tell you that each one of you are to bear the most heavy burdens a human being can have; the responsibility for one's nation, and for one's fellow. Katha is a large nation, and in every battle we will be outnumbered. There will be death starting from the first battle, and the bloodshed will not cease until the last shot is fired," he stated flatly, brows furrowed with intensity as he shook his clenched fist with passion. "We are stationed near the Terran Pass, there we will attempt to hold out against the enemy. There will be millions upon millions of them upon us in less than 2 days time. During your darkest hour you may feel despair, it may all seem pointless. But mind you: you and I are the only thing between the depraved bastards of Katha and our children and families! Dying or deserting are the equivalent of sentencing them to death, failure is not an option." He stated quietly, trembling with passion. No, the whole room was trembling with burning passion, ready to engulf and lay waste to all that stood in the way to their objective.

Secondary barracks: 08:00

Natasha scanned the obscene amounts of fresh reservists standing in neat lines, waiting to be assigned to a squad. She marched as briskly and as professionally as she could to the bright stenciled numbers: 61P. Awaiting her were four men, and one woman. She kept a cold and confident expression as she examined her platoon, keeping silent as she watched them sulk uncomfortably in the form fitting Standard Issue Body Armor (SIBA).

"I am your platoon commander, Natasha Katusha. From this moment on you are my property. Make no mistake; I am not here to keep you alive. Nor am I here to mother you. My duty is to ensure each one of you useful to your country." She shouted sternly at the recruits. She was met by a brisk nod by the balding man second in the line while the rest gave her a nervy conformation. "I am sure each and every one of you has friends and families, and a story to tell. But right now we are at war, and this is no place for sentiment," and with that, she led them to the 2nd unit's barracks, each platoon with their own small room with enough three by four bunks for all the recruits.

Wild Geese bunks: 08:25

Natasha gestured to the cramped concrete room with two tiny bunks and a bed in between that was just as small. "These are our living quarters, if you do not fit, I will gladly amputate the offending limb. If you would not like that, make do; for in two days the enemy will be upon us. Also, this is your changing room. You wake up at 7:00 and will be in your outfits by 7:10. Any questions?"

Immediately all of the recruits' hands shot up, save the balding man. Natasha pointed at the small dark haired girl in front of her who slowly lowered her hand and began to speak. "Um, ma'am, does this mean we will be stripping naked around each other?" the recruit nervously inquired.

Natasha knew she would have to explain,

"Now, I understand that some of you feel rather insecure without layers of fabric around your skin, however there is no need to be as we are part of a unit, and whether we like it or not, this is procedure. So, all of you; undress!" They were so naive to the horrors of war she thought as they nervously undressed. 'So it was my job to ensure they survived it' she thought simply. 'No, it is my job to ensure they serve well,' she reconsidered. The recruits slowly pulled their SIBA's down until they were all naked, one of the men were clearly unphased by it, while the other three where awkwardly covering their crotch regions. The one girl was hunched over, vainly attempting to hide as much of her skin as possible, blushing and fidgeting all the while.

Equipment room: 10:20

"Now that all of you have had time to rest, and time to get acquainted with each other, we begin training and I will assign weapons and equipment." She quickly lined them up by height to determine order of testing. She pointed her finger to the tallest one; a 6 foot 2 29 year old brunette man named Liev Osleg as she read from her briefing, and called him over to the range.

Liev was a construction worker for the city of Falnierv; as private companies had been outlawed for centuries by their great founder, Nafvashek Loshbien. He thought of himself as a mild mannered man, and dreaded the draft. Nonetheless he had participated in a 3 month military training course and so he was immediately made Private first class. His first impression of his commander was a cold person, a little extremist for reasons he did not know; but a good person at heart. However he had grown fairly comfortable over the course of two hours with all his fellow squad mates, save Linda. Liev was a family man to the bone, he would give his life a hundred times over to protect his two sons and his wife; however with the news of this war, and the estimated casualty rate, he wasn't even sure if a hundred lives would make a difference in the grand scheme of things.

He stood at attention, looking down at his commander, but he knew in experience and skill, she was looking down upon him. She placed her hand on a blue scanner, and after it flashed dully, the rack slid open and handed him an old looking rifle, looking like a smaller, wimpier version of the AK-74U. He sighed in aversion to the cold and unforgiving touch of this instrument made to take lives. Natasha, standing beside him took the same rifle and showed him how to aim and shoulder it once it was apparent he had no idea how to use the rifle. He followed her actions and once they were both confident he was ready, she told him to fire five founds into a moving target, he shouldered the surprisingly light weapon and aimed down the sight. He had a hard time spotting the target, as the man sized target seemed to be the size of a fist meters in front of him, due to the target being 25 meters away, nonetheless he finally had a bead on his target and he pulled the trigger.

"CRACK" he heard the harsh sound as the wood stock pressed gently against his shoulder. A fraction of a second later he heard the report as the bullet rubbed and disintegrated against the tough fiber in the back of the range. He looked over to Natasha, face serious in thought as she frantically scribbled notes on her tablet. She finally noticed him and gave him a reassuring nod as she coldly ordered; "Empty the rest, now". He hurriedly swung his rifle in the general direction of the target, giving himself a second to adjust as he squeezed the trigger four times, none of them hitting the target. He was sweating and shaking, simply feeling relived it was already over.

The rest of the tryouts were the nearly identical, Natasha would show them how to use their weapon, and they would miss horribly. While each one of them were relived they were done, they knew this was just another testament to how unprepared they were. All except Cpl. Vadir; they had discovered that the man of few words was a 43 year old police sniper, the reason they made him corporal, because he had experience, though no real affiliation to the military. The balding man had hit the target twice, earning the respect and awe of his fellow squad mates, along with a word of praise from their commander. He responded with silence.

Natasha stepped in front of the five, 'Now, my turn to earn their respect,' she thought grinning to herself. "As we can see, none of you are prepared for this war. And you are about to go up against an army who has been training and planning this war for who knows how long. Therefore if you want to survive, you must improve! Allow me to demonstrate!" She shouted to her squad as she once again unlocked the weapon's rack. The recruits lined up around her, ready to watch her demonstrate, a couple of other platoons also ceased training to watch her shoot; recruits studying with intensity, for their lives depended on it, and her peers grinning as they waited for the spectacle to occur.

She grabbed the same rifle they were training with and loaded the standard magazine with 45 bullets. She had given them the 22. Long so as not to intimidate them, but despite the seemingly unimpressive power the bullets had, they could still punch through a solid brick with ease; these were neutered rounds. This would be a cakewalk for her. She also holstered her .45 SIP (standard issue pistol) a weapon that contained 10 rounds, and took a single grenade as well. "Target activation; difficulty, maximum, target number; 56, confirmed." She said into the range's microphone. She was about to inspire the unit, she was asked by her company commander to inspire morale. She only hoped she would not fail, as a single missed shot would mean demoralization of the entire fighting force. She relaxed: slowing her breathing and shouldered her rifle, adjusting until it felt like it was a part of her. A blue screen announced "BEGIN" in glowing blue letters as the hole riddled environment was suddenly filled with the silhouettes of dozens of figures, distances ranging from 10 to 50 meters, and some moving, some popping out of cover.

She felt the entire world sharpen and slow down as her enhanced tunnel vision kicked in. She saw the first target in front of her and with a sure shot; she placed a round in between the paper target's forehead, before the target was even able to retract she had already 'killed' three more targets. It was routine, she barely noticed the cheers and hollers as she systematically moved from target to target, each time giving herself a half a second to lead and calibrate her shot, putting each target down with a single glowing bolt. Then she heard the gun click, she gave a quick glance at the ammo counter, surely enough it was empty. She slid the gun on the floor and without missing a beat; she pulled out the SIP, 'this is more like it' she thought as she shot a target 50 meters away with a single shot, ripping the head off the target. 'Move, adjust, shoot, and repeat' she thought to herself all the while. It was her last shot as she sighted downrange, but there were two more targets left. She had saved these two targets; both within five meters of each other and twenty five meters away from her. She had planned to throw the grenade in between, and shoot it in mid-air, she has ran it over dozens of times in her mind, and now it was time to do it.

She pulled the pin from the small explosive with her teeth, her other hand roughly aiming where the grenade would arc. She lobbed the rectangular grey explosive gently, and as it approached the target, it started descending slowly as it finished arcing. She aimed, and for her; time grew even more still as the neural over clocker kicked into effect as she pulled the trigger. She saw the faintly glowing bulled zip towards the grenade and her heart soared as she saw it sink into the silvery casing of the bomb. The grenade exploded with a sharp bang, causing everybody's ears to ring. But the sergeant ignored it, as she watched the smoke dissipate, and float up into the ventilation shaft, her heart sank; one of the targets were still standing. She was confused for a moment as of why it had not fallen, but it was clear through some miracle the grenade's shrapnel had missed, and she began to panic. She had failed in inspiring morale, but then she had an idea. She unclipped her combat knife from her boot and flung it at the target with all her might, causing it to stick cleanly into the target's chest just as the display showed "FAILED" in glowing red letters. She understood why; the range was not made for throwing knives and things of the sort, and so it did not register. But even so she heard the entire room explode into applause and whoops. It had only taken her a minute to finish a simulation meant for five people.

Commander's mess: 16:00

Colonel Ereval watched his star solider destroy the range with the precision of a sniper and the cold rage of a commando from the control room. He grinned as he saw her plunge the knife into the target's torso; she was indeed the perfect solider, save one little thing. The outlook of the war seemed grim, as bloody and gruesome as the carnival conflict, and a thousand times more expansive. In all his decades of command he had earned his reputation as a man to be respected; but he was no solider. The war was estimated to have over 50 million dead, a near 70 percent casualty rate if it went well. If not… he preferred not to think of the consequences of defeat; the Kathans were well known for their brutality, on some occasions of rape, cannibalism, and flaying's have been witnessed by the victims of their bloodlust. He shuddered to think of what would happen to his soldiers if they were to be captured; yet despite this he forced a grin into his face as he heard the door into the command room creak open.

He widened his grin as he saw Natasha, eyes teary, walking towards him slowly. He acknowledged her with a lazy salute, while she pulled off a flawless show of discipline with her's. "I'm sorry sir; I didn't know the grenade wouldn't… I apologize for my failure." She said gulping in air as she tried to quickly wipe her eyes she was clearly exhausted by the effort as she heaved air and struggled to maintain steady breathing. He gave her a warm smile and hugged her as he whispered into her ear; "Now, you are the finest solider in this company. Am I understood?" he asked her firmly, whispering into her ear. He felt her cold nose rub against his ear as she nodded and sniffled as if she were still the little girl who would fall asleep on his lap. "Good girl, now, you did well, didn't you hear how ecstatic they were? And even if you had failed the whole process, it is your duty to remain calm under fire and inspire and lead your troops. I know your troubles better than anybody, and right now, I need you to remain calm and be the pillar of hope for those who look up to you." He rested his hands on her shoulders and gave her an encouraging nod as he gently spun her around and nudged her out the room. "Remember, you can always come to me if you ever need help darling!" he shouted down the hallway comfortingly, causing the two guards stationed near the door to chuckle a bit. He received a short nod as she regained composure and briskly walked back down the hallway.

Hello! It's the guy at the bottom of the page! Anyways, I'll be updating regularly from now on. Each chapter is usually 3000 or so words, and I'll try to update every week. Anyways, there is some action coming up the nest chapter so I hope you all will all bear with me.


	3. Invasion

Hello, sorry for the slow update, but nonetheless, here is the third chapter of Just another war: the war begins!

Disclaimer: I do not own nationstates, nor do I own any sizable sum of money so please don't sue me.

Corporal Darwell was an electrical engineer for the city of Dhempson, and because of his know-how he was nearly recruited for the armor corps, until news came out that recruitment for the armor corps were over, so he ended up in general infantry. He had served as a border guard before, so he had some experience; but nothing could have prepared him for a real war. He watched a dark haired man step up to the makeshift podium escorted by a couple of veteran soldiers. He cleared his throat gruffly as he began to speak,

"I am the captain of this company for those of who do not know. This is the wild geese company of the 3rd battalion, and while I do not have the power to change this damn name, I am Captain Luka Barnett; and I am your commander. Being as much a veteran as any of your sergeants, I know that war is a nasty business, and I understand that each of you mean something to somebody. Therefore I will not throw away lives without need. So when you are ordered into a seemingly meaningless situation; know that there is a greater purpose. Colonel Ereval; our battalion commander may seem as if he belonged in a retirement home, but he has yet to lose a major conflict in his decades long career. If you fail, it is on you; each and every one of you has it within him or herself to survive, so while you not may be as skilled as a certain showoff of a commander; you certainly aren't cannon fodder either, so don't wait there to die. And if you are going to die, you had damned best die standing with your finger on the trigger!" Darwell felt his heart beat faster, and eyes widen with every word the dark haired man spoke, he was a natural speech giver, and Darwell knew that sometimes, words were far more powerful than any gun if used correctly. "Tomorrow, your sergeants will lead you to the range; there you will spend the whole day becoming acquainted with your firearms and your equipment. You will not question the load out choices your commander chooses for you, for they know best the art of war, and you do not. I will be watching the whole process. Dinner is at 17:00, thank you for your time."

He watched as the other platoons were led back to their bunks by their commanders, but Natasha was nowhere to be found. "Where is she?" he whispered in a panicked tone to Vadir, hoping that the Corporal would know what to do. Sadly, he too was lost as well, and he showed it through a gruff shrug. The five stood there rather nervously as they waited for their commander to show up.

Then the gunfire began.

Commander's mess 16:15

Natasha was halfway down the hallway, jogging at a brisk pace to meet up with her squad; feeling a little guilty for leaving them for a while. She passed Captain Luka and gave him a salute, and he responded in kind as they passed each other. Then she heard gunfire ring out from near the commander's mess. She heard the panicked cries over the intercom, pleading for reinforcements as one by one by one the voices went silent. 'They're attacking the command room,' she thought to herself as she un-holstered her SIP and hurtled through the hallway with cold furry. "Get Captian Luka to safety, I'll go reinforce the Commander's mess!" she shouted at the escorts and at captain Luka as she stormed past them, eyes wide for anything that looked like an intruder. She screeched to a stop as she saw five heavily armed men bashing at the heavy door to the commander's mess as she noticed the mutilated corpses of the two guards on duty lying on the ground, brains plastered against the walls from the rounds of the small bull pup rifles the grey armor clad assassins held.

She cursed the lack of armament that soldiers were allowed to carry within the base as she knew a pistol would not be enough to kill five armed assassins. Nonetheless she would have to buy time for other reinforcements to come. 'Dammit' she cursed to herself, she was exhausted from the range, her every fiber of her being screamed as she ran, not waiting for cool down of her ability to wear off before exerting herself. She steeled her nerves as she peeked over the corridor and stuck her pistol in front of her and fired. The rapid succession of .45 slugs cracked armor and tore plaster and deflected off of the armored walls. One of the Assassins took three shots to the chest, the first cracked the armor's grey plating, the second shattered it and the third shredded the assassin's gut, the bullet rebounding off of the back armor, flushing the soldier's innards out like a fountain of gore. She now recognized the assassins as the Spetzkrim; the elite operations unit of the Kathan armies known for their ruthlessness and skill, her heart sunk at this realization, but if she was to die she would die standing. She ducked back behind cover just as a relentless hail of automatic fire tore through the hallway. The noise was intense, and she went deaf as she felt them approaching, she crouched into close quarters combat position, keeping her pistol at the ready.

She pulled the trigger as she saw their shadows close, catching the advancing trooper in the front. She kept pulling the trigger as fast as she could, blood splattering on her SIBA with every shot. She ran out of bullets as her pistol clicked empty; just in time for the second in line to push his dead comrade out of the way. Natasha jumped back, dropping her gun all the while as an armored hand split her SIBA with a dark blade, drawing blood. She couldn't respond fast enough as she felt the cold unforgiving steel of a combat knife plunged into her shoulder.

Terran pass; Krukov corvette: 08:00

Sigsmund was part of the Spetzkrim for over a decade, over time he had shown through his unflinching dedication to Krukov, and his tactical mind that he was indeed one of the most elite of the Spetzkrim; earning him the favor of the great Korak; the Supreme General of the Kathan Armed Forces Viktor Krukov. He was awarded the position as a commanding operative of the Kathan armed forces before he was deployed on this mission. He nodded to his subordinate, senior operative Goulda. He looked around at his platoon of Spetzkrim, elite of the elite; none of them even flinching as the turbulence knocked their small corvette around like a gnat. He had the privilege of leading some of Katha's finest to the first operation of the great crusade; the destruction of a Falniervien command center. The light turned green as he signaled to his men. They unbuckled, and one by one they began jumping off of the stealth corvette. He dropped headfirst at terminal velocity until he was only seconds above the mountainous terrain; then he tugged hard at the release strap for his parachute, knocking his breath out as he decelerated at a breakneck pace.

The transparent canopies of the Spetzkrim's parachutes distorted the light, but the elites cared little for the light show, for they were already moving towards their destination. He stopped his squad as his display displayed two heat signs around their destination. He crossed his two fingers into a cross, and in an instant the entire squad was no longer visible to sight; executing his orders. He approached the two guards with the stealth of a serpent as he waved his muscular arm to signal his men. Suddenly, he snapped his Vork-24 submachine gun up and opened fire on the guards. Immediately, dozens of high velocity bullets shot out of the rifles of the Spetzkrim, who had formed a semi-circle to maximize firepower. The two heavily armed guards jerked violently, spewing blood from every orifice as their armor gave way under the onslaught of dozens upon dozens of rounds; spewing viscera and gore into a bloody mist that shrouded their now lifeless corpses.

Sigsmund ran past the scene of the firefight, wasting no time as he and his squad reached the large metal hatch. It had taken the intelligence offices months to find the ventilation shaft to the mountain HQ, but they now had a way to assail the otherwise heavily defended fortress without employing an army of millions; or nuclear weapons. Those were to be used later.

He came to the hatch after a half minute of sprinting, signaling at Vald, the youngest of the unit to blow the hatch. He laced the cover with hyper exothermic mixture and then gave Sigsmund a sideways thumbs up. Observing his subordinate's work, and mentally deeming it workable, he gave Vald a thumbs up as the reaction began. Vald took out his Grukov 42 pistol and shot the gel-like mixture. In an instant the ring of gel around the latch lit up; blinding his sensors for a while; as his armor had no opening to see from, but a tactical display instead. A half a second after they were left with a glowing white ring of searing heat around the hatch. Grimacing that the explosive had not done its job, he jumped on the weakened piece of metal; and it gave out from under him. He slid down the dark passage as he signaled for his squad to follow him.

The ten dark grey spetzkrim slid down the corridor for a long while, their composite plated armor holding; scratching the polished sheet metal of the ventilation vent as they slid down at breakneck speed. He hit the opening of the ventilation shaft, ripping through the filter and ripping the metal mesh from its sockets, bursting through the ceiling in a cloud of plaster and splinters. His armor consisted of multiple plates of metallic and ceramic alloy melded into different sections of his armor, sheilding most of his body in alloy. However, some parts were not covered; such as his elbows and sides were only covered by high tensile strength polymer; and even the metallic armor would not withstand too much fire. Nonetheless, he was able to land safely without injuring himself; as did the rest of his squad. His sensors scanned the area around him, pointing him towards his target. He and his squad sprinted towards the unnervingly empty hallways. His squad met no resistance until he reached the command room. He turned the corner and was immediately noticed. But he and his squad were already out of cover, so he shouted over the intercom to continue charging as the sensors muted the outside sound to retain their hearing. He felt an impact on his leg as he kept on sprinting; his armor had held. Unfortunately the other five of his men were gunned down by the hail of glowing metal, cracking plates, as he heard his men scream as their lives exited from their bodies. With more fury than ever, he charged down the hallway, firing his submachine gun all the while. The bullets plinked off the walls as the rest of his squad followed his example and began to open fire, the hallway filled with flying metal as the two forces continued firing unflinchingly for what seemed like an eternity. Luckily for the spetzkrim, they had overwhelming firepower and the two guards were gunned down with methodical ruthlessness; the rain of bullets jerking their bodies with every blow; each shot spilling yet more blood.

Sigsmund then turned his attention to the door; clearly labeled commander's mess. His targets were behind those heavy doors, unfortunately, the firefight had alerted the residents of the room, and now the spetzkrim found themselves desperately bashing the doors and shooting the locks. Unfortunately for them the doors were reinforced, and save the use of explosives which he now regretted not bringing along; nothing would get the door to open. Just as he was about to order his men to stop wasting ammunition and effort he felt a heavy impact; like a shove; on his shoulder. The shots came from the left hallway where he caught sight of a woman; around thirty shooting at his squad with a large pistol. Most of his men were unscathed, however Vald took three hits to the chest; killing him almost instantly. He heard his youngest member gurgle before he slumped into the ground; spilling his innards to the cold stone floor. He swung his gun and fired off a burst of suppressing fire; forcing the assailant behind cover.

He and Goulda rushed towards the shooter while the rest of his squad stayed and provided fire. Goulda turned the corner as he swung his rifle left. He watched in fascinated horror as he watched his old comrade jerk as blood dripped and splattered on the floor. His fist trembled as he heard his friend, the only man he could truly trust spasm as his speaker relayed his pained breathing. He dropped his empty rifle, and in one fluid motion he pulled up his combat knife out of it's sheathe. He grinned in rage and frustration, as he finally allowed his pent up aggression to engulf him. He lashed out; kicking his comrade's corpse aside, leaving the unprepared enemy wide open. Snarling like a feral animal he swung his six inches of razor sharp dark steel at his foe. He tugged it through as he felt it catch on her gut; letting blood, but it was a shallow cut. He stabbed down at his enemy, this time; connecting solidly as he sunk his knife deep into her shoulder; feeling it scrape against bone and cut through sinew and muscle. He roared even louder as an armored knee came crashing into his crotch, not breaking the armor, but causing pain. He let go of the knife as they backed off; watching each other' observing each other. Trying to grasp how each other thought, not for compassion's sake; but with deadly intent.

He ran, as fast as he could towards the woman that murdered two of his comrades, then, he grabbed her bleeding arm firmly, producing a groan from her as he swung his fist at her temple. He felt his fist hit a hard plate as his opponent lifted her hand to block the blow. Not slowing his frenzied assault he pushed forwards and propelled his knee into his opponent's gut, then followed up on his distracted assailant as he bashed his armored helm against her face. He felt her nose give way with little resistance as he impacted the skull of his foe with his rock hard armored helm. He grinned with satisfaction as he watched his opponent stumble, and then fall backwards, blood flowing freely from her nose and pooling near her shoulder where he had plunged his knife into as she grabbed her gut and nose while wrenching in pain. Wasting no time; Sigsmund brought down his metal sole down upon the bleeding woman's knee. He grinned in savagely and silently as he felt the armored sole pulverize the bone in his opponent's knee. He heard the dampened sound of a scream only one on the brink of death could produce as his visor showed him the blue and red heat signature of a woman spasm.

CHA CHINK,

Sigsmund spun around, raising his fists into a defensive posture as he accessed the area to face a skinny figure dressed like the likes he had never seen before. He saw what seemed to be a bloodied ornamental sword held in one hand by the figure in question. Her lanky frame didn't seem to boast any aura of lethality as she simply stood there, observing him. After a second of tension he dashed at her, hurtling himself at her at full speed, his heavy footsteps echoing around the empty hallway with the quiet sobs of the woman he had earlier defeated drowned out by the impending violence. His armor was thin, but more than enough to deflect a sword, no matter the sharpness; he grinned again "this is going to be a cake walk" he thought to himself as he grinned, finally entering grabbing distance of his combatant. That was the last thought he ever had.


	4. Chaos in the Command Center

Yello' all, here is chapter four; as always I don't own nationstates; (nor was I any good at the game anyways). Let the killing begin!

Corporal Darwell was an electrical engineer for the city of Dhempson, and because of his know-how he was nearly recruited for the armor corps, until news came out that recruitment for the armor corps were over, so he ended up in general infantry. He had served as a border guard before, so he had some experience; but nothing could have prepared him for a real war. He watched a dark haired man step up to the makeshift podium escorted by a couple of veteran soldiers. He cleared his throat gruffly as he began to speak,

"I am the captain of this company for those of who do not know. This is the wild geese company of the 3rd battalion, and while I do not have the power to change this damn name, I am Captain Luka Barnett; and I am your commander. Being as much a veteran as any of your sergeants, I know that war is a nasty business, and I understand that each of you mean something to somebody. Therefore I will not throw away lives without need. So when you are ordered into a seemingly meaningless situation; know that there is a greater purpose. Colonel Ereval; our battalion commander may seem as if he belonged in a retirement home, but he has yet to lose a major conflict in his decades long career. If you fail, it is on you; each and every one of you has it within him or herself to survive, so while you not may be as skilled as a certain showoff of a commander; you certainly aren't cannon fodder either, so don't wait there to die. And if you are going to die, you had damned best die standing with your finger on the trigger!" Darwell felt his heart beat faster, and eyes widen with every word the dark haired man spoke, he was a natural speech giver, and Darwell knew that sometimes, words were far more powerful than any gun if used correctly. "Tomorrow, your sergeants will lead you to the range; there you will spend the whole day becoming acquainted with your firearms and your equipment. You will not question the load out choices your commander chooses for you, for they know best the art of war, and you do not. I will be watching the whole process. Dinner is at 17:00, thank you for your time."

He watched as the other platoons were led back to their bunks by their commanders, but Natasha was nowhere to be found. "Where is she?" he whispered in a panicked tone to Vadir, hoping that the Corporal would know what to do. Sadly, he too was lost as well, and he showed it through a gruff shrug. The five stood there rather nervously as they waited for their commander to show up.

Then the gunfire began.

Commander's mess 16:15

Natasha was halfway down the hallway, jogging at a brisk pace to meet up with her squad; feeling a little guilty for leaving them for a while. She passed Captain Luka and gave him a salute, and he responded in kind as they passed each other. Then she heard gunfire ring out from near the commander's mess. She heard the panicked cries over the intercom, pleading for reinforcements as one by one by one the voices went silent. 'They're attacking the command room,' she thought to herself as she un-holstered her SIP and hurtled through the hallway with cold furry. "Get Captian Luka to safety, I'll go reinforce the Commander's mess!" she shouted at the escorts and at captain Luka as she stormed past them, eyes wide for anything that looked like an intruder. She screeched to a stop as she saw five heavily armed men bashing at the heavy door to the commander's mess as she noticed the mutilated corpses of the two guards on duty lying on the ground, brains plastered against the walls from the rounds of the small bull pup rifles the grey armor clad assassins held.

She cursed the lack of armament that soldiers were allowed to carry within the base as she knew a pistol would not be enough to kill five armed assassins. Nonetheless she would have to buy time for other reinforcements to come. 'Dammit' she cursed to herself, she was exhausted from the range, her every fiber of her being screamed as she ran, not waiting for cool down of her ability to wear off before exerting herself. She steeled her nerves as she peeked over the corridor and stuck her pistol in front of her and fired. The rapid succession of .45 slugs cracked armor and tore plaster and deflected off of the armored walls. One of the Assassins took three shots to the chest, the first cracked the armor's grey plating, the second shattered it and the third shredded the assassin's gut, the bullet rebounding off of the back armor, flushing the soldier's innards out like a fountain of gore. She now recognized the assassins as the Spetzkrim; the elite operations unit of the Kathan armies known for their ruthlessness and skill, her heart sunk at this realization, but if she was to die she would die standing. She ducked back behind cover just as a relentless hail of automatic fire tore through the hallway. The noise was intense, and she went deaf as she felt them approaching, she crouched into close quarters combat position, keeping her pistol at the ready.

She pulled the trigger as she saw their shadows close, catching the advancing trooper in the front. She kept pulling the trigger as fast as she could, blood splattering on her SIBA with every shot. She ran out of bullets as her pistol clicked empty; just in time for the second in line to push his dead comrade out of the way. Natasha jumped back, dropping her gun all the while as an armored hand split her SIBA with a dark blade, drawing blood. She couldn't respond fast enough as she felt the cold unforgiving steel of a combat knife plunged into her shoulder.

Terran pass; Krukov corvette: 08:00

Sigsmund was part of the Spetzkrim for over a decade, over time he had shown through his unflinching dedication to Krukov, and his tactical mind that he was indeed one of the most elite of the Spetzkrim; earning him the favor of the great Korak; the Supreme General of the Kathan Armed Forces Viktor Krukov. He was awarded the position as a commanding operative of the Kathan armed forces before he was deployed on this mission. He nodded to his subordinate, senior operative Goulda. He looked around at his platoon of Spetzkrim, elite of the elite; none of them even flinching as the turbulence knocked their small corvette around like a gnat. He had the privilege of leading some of Katha's finest to the first operation of the great crusade; the destruction of a Falniervien command center. The light turned green as he signaled to his men. They unbuckled, and one by one they began jumping off of the stealth corvette. He dropped headfirst at terminal velocity until he was only seconds above the mountainous terrain; then he tugged hard at the release strap for his parachute, knocking his breath out as he decelerated at a breakneck pace.

The transparent canopies of the Spetzkrim's parachutes distorted the light, but the elites cared little for the light show, for they were already moving towards their destination. He stopped his squad as his display displayed two heat signs around their destination. He crossed his two fingers into a cross, and in an instant the entire squad was no longer visible to sight; executing his orders. He approached the two guards with the stealth of a serpent as he waved his muscular arm to signal his men. Suddenly, he snapped his Vork-24 submachine gun up and opened fire on the guards. Immediately, dozens of high velocity bullets shot out of the rifles of the Spetzkrim, who had formed a semi-circle to maximize firepower. The two heavily armed guards jerked violently, spewing blood from every orifice as their armor gave way under the onslaught of dozens upon dozens of rounds; spewing viscera and gore into a bloody mist that shrouded their now lifeless corpses.

Sigsmund ran past the scene of the firefight, wasting no time as he and his squad reached the large metal hatch. It had taken the intelligence offices months to find the ventilation shaft to the mountain HQ, but they now had a way to assail the otherwise heavily defended fortress without employing an army of millions; or nuclear weapons. Those were to be used later.

He came to the hatch after a half minute of sprinting, signaling at Vald, the youngest of the unit to blow the hatch. He laced the cover with hyper exothermic mixture and then gave Sigsmund a sideways thumbs up. Observing his subordinate's work, and mentally deeming it workable, he gave Vald a thumbs up as the reaction began. Vald took out his Grukov 42 pistol and shot the gel-like mixture. In an instant the ring of gel around the latch lit up; blinding his sensors for a while; as his armor had no opening to see from, but a tactical display instead. A half a second after they were left with a glowing white ring of searing heat around the hatch. Grimacing that the explosive had not done its job, he jumped on the weakened piece of metal; and it gave out from under him. He slid down the dark passage as he signaled for his squad to follow him.

The ten dark grey spetzkrim slid down the corridor for a long while, their composite plated armor holding; scratching the polished sheet metal of the ventilation vent as they slid down at breakneck speed. He hit the opening of the ventilation shaft, ripping through the filter and ripping the metal mesh from its sockets, bursting through the ceiling in a cloud of plaster and splinters. His armor consisted of multiple plates of metallic and ceramic alloy melded into different sections of his armor, sheilding most of his body in alloy. However, some parts were not covered; such as his elbows and sides were only covered by high tensile strength polymer; and even the metallic armor would not withstand too much fire. Nonetheless, he was able to land safely without injuring himself; as did the rest of his squad. His sensors scanned the area around him, pointing him towards his target. He and his squad sprinted towards the unnervingly empty hallways. His squad met no resistance until he reached the command room. He turned the corner and was immediately noticed. But he and his squad were already out of cover, so he shouted over the intercom to continue charging as the sensors muted the outside sound to retain their hearing. He felt an impact on his leg as he kept on sprinting; his armor had held. Unfortunately the other five of his men were gunned down by the hail of glowing metal, cracking plates, as he heard his men scream as their lives exited from their bodies. With more fury than ever, he charged down the hallway, firing his submachine gun all the while. The bullets plinked off the walls as the rest of his squad followed his example and began to open fire, the hallway filled with flying metal as the two forces continued firing unflinchingly for what seemed like an eternity. Luckily for the spetzkrim, they had overwhelming firepower; the two guards were gunned down with methodical ruthlessness; the rain of bullets jerking their bodies with every blow; each shot spilling yet more blood.

Sigsmund then turned his attention to the door; clearly labeled commander's mess. His targets were behind those heavy doors, unfortunately, the firefight had alerted the residents of the room, and now the spetzkrim found themselves desperately bashing the doors and shooting the locks. Unfortunately for them the doors were reinforced, and save the use of explosives which he now regretted not bringing along; nothing would get the door to open. Just as he was about to order his men to stop wasting ammunition and effort he felt a heavy impact; like a shove; on his shoulder. The shots came from the left hallway where he caught sight of a woman; around thirty shooting at his squad with a large pistol. Most of his men were unscathed, however Vald took three hits to the chest; killing him almost instantly. He heard his youngest member gurgle before he slumped into the ground; spilling his innards to the cold stone floor. He swung his gun and fired off a burst of suppressing fire; forcing the assailant behind cover.

He and Goulda rushed towards the shooter while the rest of his squad stayed and provided fire. Goulda turned the corner as he swung his rifle left. He watched in fascinated horror as he watched his old comrade jerk as blood dripped and splattered on the floor. His fist trembled as he heard his friend, the only man he could truly trust spasm as his speaker relayed his pained breathing. He dropped his empty rifle, and in one fluid motion he pulled up his combat knife out of it's sheathe. He grinned in rage and frustration, as he finally allowed his pent up aggression to engulf him. He lashed out; kicking his comrade's corpse aside, leaving the unprepared enemy wide open. Snarling like a feral animal he swung his six inches of razor sharp dark steel at his foe. He tugged it through as he felt it catch on her gut; letting blood, but it was a shallow cut. He stabbed down at his enemy, this time; connecting solidly as he sunk his knife deep into her shoulder; feeling it scrape against bone and cut through sinew and muscle. He roared even louder as an armored knee came crashing into his crotch, not breaking the armor, but causing pain. He let go of the knife as they backed off; watching each other' observing each other. Trying to grasp how each other thought, not for compassion's sake; but with deadly intent.

He ran, as fast as he could towards the woman that murdered two of his comrades, then, he grabbed her bleeding arm firmly, producing a groan from her as he swung his fist at her temple. He felt his fist hit a hard plate as his opponent lifted her hand to block the blow. Not slowing his frenzied assault he pushed forwards and propelled his knee into his opponent's gut; hen followed up on his distracted assailant as he bashed his armored helm against her face. He felt her nose give way with little resistance as he impacted the skull of his foe with his rock hard armored helm. He grinned with satisfaction as he watched his opponent stumble, and then fall backwards, blood flowing freely from her nose and pooling near her shoulder where he had plunged his knife into as she grabbed her gut and nose while wrenching in pain. Wasting no time; Sigsmund brought down his metal sole down upon the bleeding woman's knee. He grinned in savagely and silently as he felt the armored sole pulverize the bone in his opponent's knee. He heard the dampened sound of a scream only one on the brink of death could produce as his visor showed him the blue and red heat signature of a woman spasm.

CHA CHINK,

Sigsmund spun around, raising his fists into a defensive posture as he accessed the area to face a skinny figure dressed like the likes he had never seen before. He saw what seemed to be a bloodied ornamental sword held in one hand by the figure in question. Her lanky frame didn't seem to boast any aura of lethality as she simply stood there, observing him. After a second of tension he dashed at her, hurtling himself at her at full speed, his heavy footsteps echoing around the empty hallway with the quiet sobs of the woman he had earlier defeated drowned out by the impending violence. His armor was thin, but more than enough to deflect a sword, no matter the sharpness; he grinned again "this is going to be a cake walk" he thought to himself as he grinned, finally entering grabbing distance of his combatant. That was the last thought he ever had.


End file.
